Hardened By Pressure
by Stormkpr
Summary: After the events of Season 5, FrozenFitz has already been located and rescued, and he and Simmons are taking a much-needed break in Perthshire. Of course, the universe probably won't let them get away with some simple rest and relaxation. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

After the events of Season 5, FrozenFitz has already been located and rescued, and he and Simmons are taking a much-needed break in Perthshire. Of course, the universe probably won't let them get away with some simple rest and relaxation.

The title comes from words Jemma said to Flint in Season 5, episode 10: "Hardened by pressure, hollowed by loss."

The fic will be 4 chapters long.

 **Chapter One**

"May I offer you tea?"

The Bed and Breakfast was the only one in the area, and the innkeeper – a middle-aged man who had introduced himself as Marcas – barely let Fitz and Simmons through the front door before offering them tea.

"Your room will be ready momentarily," Marcas continued. "You're welcome to enjoy the tea in the drawing room while you wait. With the cold rain outside, I hope you might find tea by the fireplace to be…well, cozy perhaps."

"That would be lovely," Jemma murmured. One of her hands held Fitz's, the other her duffle bag. Years in SHIELD had taught them to travel light.

She and Fitz exchanged a glance as they settled onto the plush sofa, which was a muted shade of brown. With Marcas walking towards what was presumably the kitchen, they were the only two occupants of the living room. The cheery fireplace blazed, and above it stood a painting of a bucolic landscape. Several bookshelves lined the room, filled with musty, hardcover books. Across from the sofa, another portrait occupied the wall, this one of a Renaissance-era woman complete with creamy pale skin and curly hair piled high. The walls looked rich and elegant; the paneling was dark, but several windows would allow in light once the rain ceased.

"It's a lovely place," Jemma said, placing a hand on Fitz's arm. With her damp jacket removed and the fireplace burning, she started to feel warmer already.

Fitz nodded mutely. "Been a long time since I sat on something so soft," he said quietly. He sat upright, almost as if wasn't ready to settle into the luxurious sofa.

Jemma saw his eyes scanning the room. He still had so much to take in, she knew. They had had many discussions on the Zephyr, and Jemma did not want to rush him to have more right now.

"It's so good to be with you," Fitz added, his voice a combination of relief, pain, and wistfulness.

Jemma touched a hand to his cheek. "I feel the same," she whispered back. "And I am so glad that we put our foot down about us taking this break."

"Well, we earned it since you – I mean **we** – I guess…saved the world," Fitz remarked with a bemused chuckle. He closed his eyes for a moment. "It's too much," he said, his voice somber again. "Coulson's gone – and I didn't get to say goodbye. We're married – or **you're** married. I did something horrible to Daisy. And you lost me….and then found me again." He reached his hands up to rub his temples.

"You've only had a few days to begin to process it," Jemma said plainly with a hint of steel underneath. "Give yourself time."

He looked at her. "You look like you're doing well. Sometimes I can't tell, but you look….like you're alright?" His words were somewhere between a statement and a question.

Jemma nodded. "I am," she confirmed. "I am so thrilled to have you back that I can handle anything else." One of her hands reached around his back and stroked it.

"So what are we here for then? A honeymoon, even though I have no memory of the wedding? A chance to press pause? Time to work through our traumas?" Fitz asked.

She continued to stroke his back. "I propose we let whatever needs to happen here...just happen. Any or all of the above. I myself have no expectations other than spending some time alone with you."

As Marcas entered the room with a tea tray, Fitz allowed a shadow of a smile. "That sounds good to me. No expectations, just some time together."

"Here you are," Marcas said, setting the tray down on the coffee table in front of them, next to the requisite books. "It's brewed with roses and lotus blossoms. Also I provided a selection of scones and cookies – my husband bakes them fresh, and the cookies are still warm. Though neither of you look like you eat too many scones or cookies."

From the almost-pleading look in his eyes – and from the girth of his ample midsection – it appeared that Marcas would love nothing more than to join his guests for treats and conversation. Jemma was caught between wanting to be kind to the innkeeper, and desperately wanting time alone with Fitz.

"You, uh, wouldn't mind if my fiance and I had some time alone, would you?" Jemma asked softly, with a tilt of her head. "We haven't had much time together these past few months. Forces beyond our control have kept us apart." They had agreed to present themselves as engaged for this trip; Jemma's ring certainly had no diamond on it, but she couldn't have cared less if anyone judged them for that.

"Of course!" Marcas responded, straightening his posture. "In fact, we have no other guests scheduled to arrive until Friday, so the run of the place is yours. Please make yourself at home and explore the inn all you would like. When it stops raining, you'll find the gardens to be gorgeous and peaceful." He turned back towards the kitchen, paused, and asked, "What time would you like breakfast? We can have it ready any time between eight and ten."

Jemma heard the question and almost wanted to laugh. She hardly knew what day it was or when Friday would arrive, and she was used to having to make decisions that carried far greater consequences than when to eat breakfast. And of course Fitz hadn't had any choices about when he ate during his time in prison.

Fitz answered, "Nine would be good," and Jemma was glad to hear him making the statement.

Marcas nodded and left the room.

"No expectations," Fitz repeated. He looked into her eyes, and Jemma's heart danced. This was Fitz. This was the man she fell in love with and married. He was wounded, yes, but so was she. They could recover together. "Just time alone together. It sounds like paradise."

"Paradise indeed," Jemma said. Wordlessly and simultaneously, each closed their eyes and moved in for a kiss. It was a delicate, lingering, slow kiss and it was just what they needed. The tea and cookies would no longer be piping hot by the time they reached for them.

* * *

The housekeeper led them to their room. The enormous bed with its comforter and numerous pillows looked like something they could sink into and never return from. The room had its own fireplace right by the bed, and a wall tapestry in the same reds and browns of the drawing room hung nearby too. The ensuite bathroom boasted a marble counter and a sizable claw-foot tub.

"I almost can't take in all of this," Jemma said, eyes wide, looking around the room. Yet another bookcase was ensconced here as well, boasting more antique books. Jemma partly wanted to run her fingers over them and take in their scents; she also remembered Fitz saying that books were almost all he had been given to work with while in prison. She wondered if he might disdain them now, because of that. She herself would have been happy to throw any devices with screens into the ocean.

Fitz's heart pounded slightly, and he recognized the feeling as awe. He looked at Jemma. "It's beautiful but I almost don't care what it looks like. We're here alone together. I cannot tell you how much I dreamed of this. I- I feel like I want to just absorb you with my eyes, and look at you all day. Sometimes I have to blink because I can't believe we're here, together."

"I know," Jemma breathed, placing her hands on his chest. "It's a lot. It's all been too much."

As wordlessly as they had fallen into a kiss inside the drawing room, they now just melted into a hug. As during the kiss in the drawing room, time simply floated to a halt. They remained locked in an embrace with no desire to move. Fitz felt a bit of wetness against his chin and knew that Jemma was silently leaking a few tears.

"Tears of happiness?" he whispered.

"Yes. Maybe a bit of being overwhelmed too, but mostly happiness."

After another indeterminate amount of time passed, Fitz looked at the windows and walked towards them. They were bay windows in a horse-shoe pattern with cushioned window seats, and they overlooked the gardens. "The rain's let up," he observed. "Drizzling a bit, but doesn't look too bad."

And once again, Fitz received confirmation that they were indeed psychically linked. "You spent so much time locked up – and I was mostly indoors for a while too. Do you want to take a walk and enjoy some fresh air?" Jemma asked.

"That is precisely what I was thinking."

* * *

The rain, however, had other plans. Fitz and Simmons had just enough time to put their jackets back on, begin a brisk walk, and start to take in the bell heather, marsh marigold, and the blue hogweed before the rain returned with a vengeance. As they held hands, the couple dashed back inside the inn, racing up the main staircase to their room.

They had started a fire before they left for their walk, and were very grateful for it now.

"Well, I suppose we should get out of this wet clothing," Jemma said, her eyes wide, as they stood between the fireplace and their bed.

"Yes." Fitz's eyes glanced sideways for a second. "Though technically only our jackets and trousers are wet. We don't **have** to remove everything."

Jemma gasped with mock horror as she unzipped her jacket and removed it. "But why wouldn't we?" She unfastened her trousers and began to remove them as well. She then reached for Fitz, who had divested himself of his wet jacket. Jemma placed a kiss on one of his ears before whispering into it, "You do want to use that bed now, don't you?"

"I do," he said, the two words full of emotion and weight. Then he paused for a moment and looked down.

"What is it?" she encouraged, her voice gentle.

"It's just been odd, is all. On the Zephyr, I had such conflicting feelings. Mostly I wanted to grab you and never leave one of the bunks with you – but then sometimes I felt…."

He let his voice trail off. Jemma remained silent and looked at him with love, one of her hands reaching to hold his. She had been hoping that he'd talk about this.

Fitz continued. "I can't explain it, but maybe I was just too overwhelmed and that's why I didn't initiate anything the past few days. My body just felt strange, and my brain felt stranger. And there was so much to process." He squeezed her hand, and Jemma saw the fire in his eyes again. "I feel more like myself now. Thank you, Jemma, for suggesting this place," he said, with fervor in his voice.

She smiled. "I thought you perhaps needed a dose of your motherland - and to just get off of a spaceship for a spell, too." She then stepped back so she could continue to disrobe. When she was finished, Jemma glanced up and saw that look, again, on Fitz's face and it made her heart dance. It was the look where it appeared that he wanted to either devour her as a very hungry child might devour a warm cookie, or he wanted to worship her as if she were a goddess, or he wanted to stare at her in awe, too paralyzed to move.

He held the expression for a spell but then snapped into action. His garments were rapidly discarded and unceremoniously allowed to fall onto the carpet. She pulled back the covers first and entered the bed, and he followed a second later.

The chill of the rainy garden was soothed by the soft and thick blankets. The fireplace continued to crackle in the background as the couple kissed passionately and endlessly. The rain outside intensified and rattled against the windows, but the oblivious couple was lost in their kisses. Jemma and Fitz's only challenge right now was that each wanted only to pleasure the other; each wanted the other to lie back and be tended to.

"Are we going to have to Rochambeau?" Fitz asked, laughing. Jemma could see, in the soft glow of the fire, that the smile reached his eyes and that warmed her up as much as any of the room's attributes.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time we've had to resort to that in bed!" Jemma remarked.

Jemma won the Rochambeau.

"Damnit!" Fitz exclaimed, half-jokingly and half-seriously. "You're going to make me lie on my back, you're going to force me to endure your mouth around me until I can barely hold it, and then you're going to get on top of me and by that time I'm not going to be able to last more than a few minutes! And you're not going to let me do what I really want to do, which mostly involves licking you endlessly and then staying inside you as long as I can."

Jemma paused for a few moments and listened to his words. "Okay," she said simply and brightly. "Let's say that you won this one then!" She turned onto her back and opened herself up to him. "Have at it. We can pretend that I win next time instead."

"Really?" Fitz asked, incredulous and delighted. "I win?"

"Yes. Although when you're licking me, I am going to regale you with tales of everything I plan to do to you next time. They will be quite explicit."

Many long moments later, Jemma basked in the sensations of the man she loved on top of her, their bodies entwined and moving together, the feelings almost too intense for all the eye contact.

And hours after that, they sat together naked on the window seats, Jemma in between Fitz's legs. They watched the thunderstorm play out and admired the garden, watching the plants sway in the wind. They ate the sandwiches that Jemma had packed along with the uneaten baked goods from earlier, sometimes licking a stray morsel off of each other. They didn't leave their room until breakfast the next morning.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"I can't help you if you won't open up to me. Everything you've been saying is vague."

The middle-aged woman sat looking at the attractive young couple before her. The man was Scottish, as the therapist herself was, and the young woman English. She was happy that they were inside her office, happy that they had chosen her to provide the counseling that they sought.

The man – who had given his name as Jack – looked at his fiancé. She had given her name as Sara. They just gazed at each other silently.

"I understand that this is hard," the therapist continued. "But we have time."

The couple remained silent. Their non-verbal communication was strong, the therapist noted. A glance from one to the other conveyed what appeared to be layers of hidden meanings.

When they continued to remain silent, she prompted them. "Well, if I may, let me summarize what I heard you say so far. You mentioned that your coach, who had been almost like a father to you, passed recently and that Jack did not get a chance to say goodbye to him. You shared with me that you spent some time apart from each other due to your jobs, and that it was very hard – and you are certainly glad to be back together now. Sarah, you also shared with me that a male friend of yours passed recently and you're grieving him too, though Jack was not close to this friend – and maybe it appears, Jack, that you feel left out of their friendship. And you both had something of a falling out with your friend Mary, though you won't share the nature of this…estrangement." She paused. "Is there anything else?"

"Well, I think that's enough to start with!" the young woman answered, forcing a smile.

"Sometimes it helps to put all of your cards on the table," the therapist said. "What else has been causing you stress?"

"Well my father was an ass," Jack piped up. He had been mostly quiet during their session.

The therapist held a leather-bound notebook and a fountain pen. She was poised to write more. "Tell me more about that," she encouraged. "Is he in your life currently?"

The couple exchanged another look. Once more the therapist could only marvel. They obviously were communicating volumes, not just with their eyes but even with miniscule tilts of their heads and small hand movements that she hadn't detected at first.

"I'm sorry," Sarah began, as both she and Jack leaned forward. "It was a mistake to come here." They simultaneously rose from the couch.

"Please don't leave," the therapist implored, standing up as well.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "It's nothing personal. We're just not ready for this." He and Sarah walked towards the door.

"If you change your mind, I'm still here for you," the therapist called after them. "In fact, I think you would benefit greatly from this. I will not charge you for a second session!"

"Thank you and sorry," Sarah muttered quickly, as she and Jack closed the door behind them.

* * *

"Ack, we were fools!" Fitz grumbled, back at the bed and breakfast. Friday had arrived and two other couples had checked in, but Marcas had been earnest when he had said that Fitz and Simmons (or Jack and Sarah, as they were being called here) could have the run of the inn. They currently sat inside the library. Although it carried a slightly musty smell, it felt thick and insulated. It bore a sense of security, which they had lost at the therapist's office that morning.

"There's no way to open up to anyone else without giving up too many details!" he exclaimed, his voice passionate but quiet. "We hardly even scratched the surface with what we did share. I don't bloody know how we're supposed to talk about the Framework or prison or being enslaved by blue aliens!"

"You're right," Jemma shook her head. "We can only obfuscate so many details before it doesn't even make sense to us. And all it would take would be for her to mention something to someone, who mentions it to the wrong person, and that's it." She sighed. "I miss the days when SHIELD provided therapists."

"Well, it sounds like they're legit again, so maybe they do now." Fitz absentmindedly picked up one of the old books and caressed it. Of course thinking of SHIELD and therapists brought to mind yet another loss, that of May's ex-husband Andrew. The losses piled up like wet leaves clogging the gutters.

"Not to mention," Jemma whispered, "that plenty of our friends offered to listen to us." Mack and Elena both had – even Davis and Piper had made the offer. But the objection had been the same: their fellow agents had all suffered greatly too. And the way they lived was too incestuous – they couldn't exactly bring, say, Elena into the middle of the conflict with Daisy.

Still holding the book, Fitz stepped closer to Jemma. "Do you feel it's time to go back?"

She shook her head. "No. And we need to stop feeling guilty for taking more than two or three days off! Especially given everything we've accomplished the past few years."

He mirrored her head-shaking. "Remember our trip to the Seychelles? We didn't speak to too many people there, but those we did were shocked at how quickly we were leaving to go back to work."

"They said we were "as bad as a couple of workaholic Americans"!"

Both were smiling, and Jemma could see tension dissipate from Fitz's face. "I feel better already," he said. Although they knew they were alone, out of habit he took a quick glance back at the doorway. "I had been jealous of….him. But you and I have more than 10 years of memories together. Like that trip to the Seychelles."

"You **are** he," she said softly. "We've always grasped that concept intellectually, but maybe now we are finally starting to internalize it. You – you missed approximately 16 days with me, but other than that, you have had the exact same experiences with me as he had."

Fitz frowned, "Of course those 16 days included a wedding, a mental breakdown, and doing something horrible to Daisy." He took a breath. "It's easiest if I view this as if I suffered memory loss. Instead of thinking that I was frozen and the other Fitz did all these things, I'm just trying to mentally merge us into one, and tell myself that I'm suffering memory loss."

Jemma noted, "You have to view it however it makes sense to you, and however will help you – since it's not like we can change anything." She took a breath and added, resolutely, "Mental health should be our top priority, I think. Which brings us back to the problem of not being able to discuss our lives with anyone else." She made an exasperated gesture with her hand.

She then glanced at the book that Fitz was holding. "Do you remember that the therapist today wrote took some notes? I wonder if it would help us if we just wrote some things down. Back in SHIELD when Andrew was counseling me, he encouraged me to do that. We could write anything – farewell letters to Coulson or a list of everything we've been through or whatever else comes to mind. Or if our logical minds are a barrier, maybe we can try something even more unconventional such as drawing."

"It's worth a try," Fitz shrugged. "Maybe we can't solve this conundrum now. I can't believe I'm saying this, but if one good thing came out of me being in prison, it would be that I learned patience." He stopped, looked at her, and paused. "Okay, fine. I didn't learn patience but I at least learned to tolerate waiting a bit better.

"Come on," he continued. "I still can't get enough of sunshine and fresh air, and we have both today. Let's go for another walk."

Jemma gladly took his hand.

* * *

The next day the couple had again been gifted with sunshine and clear skies, and had taken an even longer walk. The gentle rolling hills and foliage continued to dazzle their senses. Fitz breathed it in and remembered something he had heard somewhere – perhaps from Jemma's recounting of her sessions with Andrew. Take each breath as it comes, be present in the moment. Try to stop thinking of the past or the future.

But Fitz's mind was again jolted to the past – and the future – when he and Jemma returned to the inn. Seated in the drawing room and drinking tea with Marcas was Deke Shaw.

Deke had been facing the door and rose to his feet as soon as Fitz and Simmons entered. "Hey!" Deke said. "I know you're surprised to see old Bob Fisher, but here I am!"

As Jemma pulled Deke into a hug, Fitz silently noted that Deke had apparently taken to acting as a SHIELD agent in that he effortlessly presented his alias. He wondered if Mack or Daisy had given Deke the name to use. Deke then pulled Fitz into a loose hug as well, slapping him on the back.

"Surprised but delighted, Bob," Jemma smiled.

"Please join us," Marcas encouraged, gesturing to the pot of tea. "I can make more! And we have more scones ready too," he rose to his feet.

"If you don't mind, Sarah and I are a bit tired from the walk," Fitz said. "We'll retire to our room. Bob, just come on up whenever you're ready. Room number three."

Fitz realized that "come on up" might sound odd to Marcas, but over the past few days he had observed that the garrulous innkeeper appeared to prefer talking about himself and didn't show signs of being much intrigued by what others said. Marcas also had been innkeeper for over 15 years, as he would share with anyone, and undoubtedly had seen all manner of quirky guests.

As they waited inside their room for Deke to extricate himself from Marcas's stories, Fitz asked Jemma for more information. "So I had a lot to take in when I woke up, and I think my mind almost shut down when we got to Deke," he whispered. "He's our grandson? And I hated him when we first met but you like him, right? And given that we have broken the time loop, we don't know exactly where he stands; we can no longer assume that someday we'll have a daughter who will give birth to….him."

Jemma silently nodded.

"Maybe we **should** go back to that therapist!" Fitz exclaimed, waving one hand in the air.

Jemma's eyes looked heavenwards. "Maybe returning to SHIELD would be worth it if they do provide therapy again," she muttered. "Some days I can't quite believe it all either." She took a breath and squeezed Fitz's arm. "After we found you, Deke kept his distance from you on the Zephyr; I told him you'd been through a lot and needed some space. And yes, during the 16 days you missed, Deke was not your favorite person - though I think you were starting to come around to him. And I suppose, needless to add, his life hasn't been easy either – though last I saw he loved the outdoors and everything else that his future lacked."

"He looked very happy just now," Fitz acknowledged.

"It is refreshing to see someone who truly can appreciate all that our time and place have to offer," Jemma said, nodding. "He grew up without any of this, without the chance to take a nice stroll around Perthshire."

As expected, the wait for Deke to ascend was a long one. Between Marcas's endless talking, Deke's curiosity, and Deke's love of delicious foods, FitzSimmons knew that "tea time" would last a while.

At last, they heard a gentle rap on the door, and they let Deke in. Jemma hugged him again. "Brought you some gifts from the innkeeper," Deke smiled, unfolding a cloth napkin which was stuffed with cookies and brownies. "Back in the future, no one is able to get as chubby as he is. We don't have stuff like this."

"You look like you've put on some weight," Fitz said. He realized a moment later that the words might have sounded harsh, although they had not been intended that way. Fitz then rationalized that in a future where food was scarce and consisted mostly of pellets resembling cat food, being viewed as having gained weight might be a positive attribute.

It was. "I have," Deke smiled proudly. "The food here is incredible. Remember I came from a world where an orange was a once-a-year luxury." He paused. "Sorry. Of course you don't remember. You weren't there."

"It's okay," Fitz said. He gestured for Deke to sit on the window seat; Fitz seated himself on a nearby recliner as Jemma placed the baked goods atop a dresser. She then joined her grandson on the window seat.

"Remember to keep your voice down," Jemma said quietly. "We scanned this place before we walked through the front door, but one can never be too cautious."

"Sorry, forgot about that," Deke replied, his voice down a few notches. "I spent plenty of time in the future sneaking around the Kree and quietly getting things done, but everything is so much better here that sometimes I let my guard down." He paused, "But Mack and the others are training me. And May is too."

"May is back?" Jemma asked.

"Yeah," Deke said, glancing downwards. "She's back."

"How is she?" Fitz asked.

"Well, you know, it's always hard to say what's going on with her. It's gotta suck, finally getting together with the love of your life and only having a few days before he dies. I mean, I know you two have been through –"

"It's okay," Jemma said quietly. She slowly made her way to where Fitz sat on the recliner, and she knelt to take his hand in hers. He made a subtle movement as if to reposition himself; he clearly didn't like having her kneeling as if a lapdog, but she indicated for him to stay put. "We have been through a lot but we're here together, now. May and Coulson were not as lucky." Jemma stroked his thigh.

"Yeah," Deke responded. "But so, yeah, the team's all there now. Mack leading us, May, Daisy, Yo-Yo, Davis, Piper. Bunch of new people too. I like Daisy the best but I keep my distance – she's about as closed off as May right now. Piper and Davis and I are becoming good friends though."

"That's good," Jemma said. "I suspect you're not here just for a social call though."

"I'm not sure exactly what a 'social call' is, but I'm gonna say that you're right," Deke answered, smiling and pointing a finger. "And May told me to get to the point. We want you back. I know it's only been days since you left. And each one of you guys has earned like five **years** off, not five days. But you are missed." He looked down. "Not just for your brainpower. Mack misses his Turbo. May misses her two elder kids, enough that she's almost ready to actually admit it. And Daisy's ready…ready to talk."

Fitz's eyes roamed the room. "Ready to talk about something that **I** did not do."

Deke spread his hands. "She understands that. She knows that **you** didn't do it." He said the last sentence slowly, "But it still was done to her."

"And it saved the world," Jemma added. She knew the words came out more clipped than she had intended.

Deke shrugged. "She knows that too. I think the pain is still there, though."

Fitz sighed and crossed his arms. "Please don't tell me that you're SHIELD's new therapist."

"Nope. Just a guy who cares about all of you people."

Jemma rose from Fitz's side and again sat next to Deke on the cushioned window seat. "We appreciate it," she said. She tapped a hand against his back. "But the incident that you refer to is one reason why we need more time before returning. Fitz had a mental breakdown. All of us were two steps away from one; his just happened to occur first. It needed to happen and it happened. We're going to stay here for a little while longer."

Deke nodded. "Okay. I didn't really think I'd get you to pack up right away." He then smiled. "Mind if I stay a day or two? Marcas has a few empty rooms. I'll give you all the space you need, of course. Like, if you want maybe we can have dinner together or a drink at the pub, if they have Zima. But we don't-"

"Of course," Fitz cut him off. "Of course you can stay."

The trio made loose plans. FitzSimmons wanted the rest of the day to themselves, but they all decided that tomorrow they would take breakfast together and then explore the town. The couple had been avoiding the town in favor of long walks in nature, but now they were ready to wander in and out of the shops – watching Deke's expressions of wonder and seeing him touch almost everything would be an added benefit, at least to Jemma. For a split second, Fitz thought about the antique stores and how they would remind him of the relics Coulson loved, and a fresh jolt of pain hit him.

Deke was happy to agree to anything, and said he looked forward to seeing them at 9am the next morning in the dining room.

* * *

But when Fitz and Jemma descended the stairs and entered the dining area the next morning, there was no sign of Deke. Both kept looking towards the staircase, but even long after their breakfasts had been served, Deke still had not appeared.

"Lost track of time maybe," Fitz whispered. The grandfather clock in the drawing room indicated it was now 9:25am.

"All of this is so new for him," Jemma whispered back. "He might never have slept in a bed as comfortable as this one before."

Tacitly, they agreed to finish their breakfast quickly. Nearly oblivious to the other guests (some of whom wondered why the couple rarely spoke to anyone else, tended to whisper to each other, and today raced through their meal), they headed back upstairs.

They reached room number seven and Jemma knocked on the door. "Bob?" she called out. She waited a bit, knocked harder, and called out his alias louder. Nothing.

They exchanged a look and opened the door. It was unlocked and easily gave way. Signs of a struggle – furniture overturned, a painting askew, sundry items on the floor. And Deke was nowhere to be found.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

FitzSimmons assessed their options quickly. They couldn't tell the innkeeper, as they didn't want the authorities involved; they had to keep this quiet. Fortunately, the inn offered housekeeping only every other day, and with Deke having checked in yesterday, the housekeeper would not visit his room today.

"I heard nothing last night!" Jemma whispered urgently, as they stood inside the chaos of Deke's room. "I assume no one else did either; otherwise people would have been talking about it at breakfast."

"I doubt everyone else had a night as good as ours though," Fitz remarked. After bidding farewell to Deke yesterday, FitzSimmons had spent the remainder of the day and night either in the claw-foot tub or in bed together. There had been no need for any further Rochambeaus, as each had had plenty of turns.

Jemma shook her head, needing to push such thoughts away and focus on the task at hand.

"If we don't want the authorities notified, we can't tell anyone what happened and we could only ask the most minimal of questions before people become suspicious," Jemma ruminated. "We could canvas the town but we'd surely attract even more attention that way."

"And even if we did ask questions of the people here," Fitz began, "I doubt anyone here heard anything. Like you said, we'd have sensed or overheard something at breakfast. Surely the innkeeper would've said something had he heard any commotion, since he knows we know 'Bob'."

Simultaneously they looked at each other and said, "We need to call for backup."

* * *

The next several moments progressed quickly. FitzSimmons tapped the device buried at the bottom of one of their duffle bags, and not long afterwards met Mack inside a crowded pub. "I'm glad we implanted a tracker inside Deke along with everyone else," Mack said, tapping his screen.

The device beeped. "Daisy's got something," Mack said. "Deke's not far from here. Looks like it might be our old friends the Watchdogs."

"The Watchdogs?" Fitz asked. "I almost had forgotten about them."

Daisy's voice came over Comms; apparently she had picked up what Fitz said. "Well I sure haven't!" Daisy remarked, the vinegar in her voice easily coming through.

Upon hearing Daisy's words, Jemma put a hand on Fitz's shoulder. Further discussion of the brief exchange just now would have to wait.

Daisy continued, "Looks like one of their supposedly-former members – who is probably still a member – purchased some supplies not far from here. Interesting list of stuff – I wonder if they're making a new weapon. FitzSimmons, I'd like you to take a look at his shopping list."

Mack added, "And the stuff was purchased not far from where Deke's tracker says he is." He straightened, and added, "If it is the Watchdogs, then Daisy and Yo-Yo, you two stay on the Zephyr. This smells like a trap so they can get their hands on some inhumans." He took a breath. "FitzSimmons, I want you on the Zephyr with Daisy and Yo-Yo, as Daisy quarterbacks. May, Davis, and Piper, let's pay a visit to the Watchdogs' new base."

Jemma and Fitz exchanged a look. They had known that their vacation wouldn't last, and there was no discussing the question that if one of their family members needed them, they would be there to help.

* * *

After Fitz had been rescued from space, Daisy had done as Deke had and kept her distance. Her reasons, of course, had been different than Deke's. Fitz had been bewildered, but during their days on the Zephyr, Jemma tried to strike a balance between catching Fitz up to speed and not overwhelming him. He had certainly wanted to know all of the details, while she had been forced to think of a way to convey to him that too much undigested trauma had led to a breakdown. She had tried to spoon-feed information to him rather than letting him gorge himself.

Now they faced Daisy again on the ship, but at least now they had a crisis in front of them, which forced interpersonal concerns to the side. It felt like a bit of a relief.

After pouring over the equipment, Fitz and Simmons soon had a report for Daisy and Yo-Yo. They had spent the past few days away from screens and technology, but neither had any trouble jumping back into it.

"Our best guess is that they're making a weapon to target inhumans, and the weapon runs on sonic frequencies," Fitz said. "They seem to think that the weapon will impact inhumans only."

"Based on the intel you gathered," Jemma added, "we can't speculate as to whether they're just in the planning stages or if they have it built already. But –"

"But why capture Deke and presumably use him as bait if they didn't have something they want to use on us?" Daisy asked.

"Precisely."

In the end though, the Watchdogs apparently had not expected the strike team to not consist of any inhumans. Mack, May, Davis, and Piper were easily able to extract Deke – and a prototype of the new weapon, which had not had any effect on the four non-powered people. Other than a flesh wound on Piper, the team was unscathed; the Watchdogs apparently needed to spend less time on designing new weapons and more time on basic target practice. Moments after retrieving Deke, the Zephyr was back in the sky and Deke was unabashedly hugging his grandparents.

May soon approached FitzSimmons and pulled them into a brief embrace as well. No words were exchanged, but they didn't need to be. Fitz knew that the last thing May wanted to hear was pablum like, 'I'm sorry for your loss.'

"Well, that was easy," Daisy summarized their mission.

"After Graviton and the Kree and the Remorath, the Watchdogs don't feel like much of a threat," Mack chuckled. "I guess it's hubris to feel like we can take on almost anything now though."

"Maybe it really was too easy. Who knows what their endgame truly is?" Fitz asked. "Perhaps they implanted something inside Deke. Simmons should check him out thoroughly."

"I was awake the whole time," Deke said, exasperated. "I sat in a cell while two idiots stood there all night and told me how much they hate inhumans. What the actual hell? And hey, I really need to use the bathroom."

"Fine," Jemma said, "But meet us in med lab right afterwards so I can do that thorough examination."

"Yes, ma'am," Deke said, giving a mock salute.

FitzSimmons headed for the med lab, ready to meet Deke there. Jemma had told him how she and the other Fitz had vowed never to leave the other's side, and he had wholeheartedly agreed with that plan.

Moments later, Daisy entered the lab. She knew the conversation would be easier when FitzSimmons were surrounded by equipment and had plenty to keep them occupied. "So hey," she began, clasping her hands together, "we could use your help to figure out their new weapon and the Watchdogs' real plans. Should we stop at the inn to get your things so you can come back with us?"

Jemma and Fitz exchanged a look.

"Four more days," Jemma insisted, meeting Daisy's eyes. "We want four more days together." They had briefly discussed this on the Zephyr when they had grabbed a minute, knowing full well they would be asked to return. "Of course protecting inhumans from the Watchdogs is very important to us; we just know that we need a little more time."

"Four days," Daisy nodded. "That works for me." She looked down at her hands and then back up. "And when you do come back….can the three of us talk?"

"Yes," Fitz said enthusiastically. He took a step closer to Daisy. "Please."

Daisy nodded. "Coulson's dead. And holding a grudge is just making me feel like shit. There's already been enough shit in my life." She shrugged, "I'm ready to forgive and forget."

Jemma opened her mouth; she wanted to insist that there was nothing to forgive because the man standing right here hadn't done anything. But she closed her mouth. She realized that she, too, might just need to just forgive and forget.

"That's good," Fitz said. "None of us has much family left. Losing Coulson was hard enough." The fact that he never got to say goodbye would haunt him till the end of his days. He silently decided that he might, indeed, take the idea that Jemma had gotten from Andrew and write Coulson a letter.

"Yes," Jemma said, immensely proud of her husband – or fiancé – for not falling into an argument with Daisy. "So, then, see you in four days? And we sit down and have a pint together?"

"Looking forward to it," Daisy said.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Once Deke had been examined and cleared, Jemma and Fitz spent a day with their grandson. They watched Deke eagerly touch and explore most items for sale in half the shops in Perthshire, and currently were exploring their second antique store of the day. "This must be like crossing an ocean," Jemma murmured. "For each new item you learn about and experience, there are a hundred more!"

"Pretty much. Hey, I think we had something like this in the future," Deke said, eyeing another item. "Used for washing clothes, right?"

"Yes," Jemma smiled as Deke ran his fingers along the ridges of the washboard.

Fitz bit his tongue to keep from making a snarky comment such as ' _You think?_ Didn't you ever wash your clothes?' Instead he settled for just enjoying the delight in Jemma's eyes as she watched Deke's happiness at exploring the shops. He sometimes needed to blink at the absurdity of standing here with a grown man who somehow was his grandson.

"There's so much jewelry in these shops – and jewelry on actual women, I've noticed!" Deke added, his eyes distracted by a display filled with chunky, colorful costume jewelry. "Don't you get tired of buying and wearing it?"

"Fortunately there's no rule requiring me to buy or wear any of it," Jemma responded. She touched a necklace, a simple, dainty chain with interlocking circles. It was in need of a good polishing but she couldn't take her eyes off of it. "I wear a little, when I want to. Much of it is not that expensive."

"Well, that's good," Deke remarked. "So men don't wear too much of it in in the past either, huh?"

'Typically not," Jemma answered. She traced a finger along the necklace's interlocking circles. "I suppose some things never change."

They soon bid farewell to Deke and he returned to the Zephyr, with a napkin full of scones and cookies in tow.

* * *

During their last full day in Perthshire, Fitz and Simmons again decided to do more walking. They purchased prepared sandwiches and fruit at a small grocery store, and then drove a rental car so they could reach areas they hadn't been able to get to before on foot.

The River Isla was beautiful and serene today. They walked along it, enjoying the peaceful sounds of its rushing water. Although the sky boasted more clouds today than sunshine, that didn't detract from the enjoyment Fitz and Simmons experienced in the refreshing, cool air. Leaves in all shades of green swayed and rustled against the breeze. The bits of sun that did shine through the clouds were enough.

"This is as good a spot as any for our picnic," Jemma observed. The ground was level, and no other visitors were within sight. They settled onto the blanket they had borrowed from the inn and spread out their lunch.

Fitz's heart pounded, thinking about what he planned next and wishing his emotions would obey his rational mind. He knew Jemma would say yes; in fact, he knew that she certainly had already figured out that he was going to propose – again - today. She had spent every spare moment this morning being even more affectionate and attentive than usual, squeezing his hand, looking at him with those eyes, pulling him in for random kisses.

"There's something I've wanted to show you," Jemma began softly, reaching into her purse.

"Oh?" Fitz asked quizzically. He noticed that she was avoiding eye-contact and seemed overly absorbed in rooting around the small purse.

She retrieved her phone. They had agreed to avoid technology as much as possible during this trip, so seeing it again was a bit of a surprise. "You don't have to watch this now," Jemma began, her eyes darting towards Fitz's and then back towards the phone. "You don't have to watch it ever, in fact. It's a video of our wedding. Mack filmed it. For Yo-Yo, since she was too ill to be there."

Fitz looked at his hands. They had broached the topic of the wedding before, of course, but never in any detail. During their last discussion on the subject, Fitz had left it at letting her know that he was thrilled that they had married but that he wasn't ready to hear any specifics about the ceremony yet.

Jemma touched his arm. "I know you might not be ready yet. It's okay if you are not. I know this must be difficult for you."

"Difficult?" Fitz asked gently. "We came so close to losing each other over and over again. For most of the past few years, the notion of ever marrying you was – was nothing more than a distant fantasy of mine, one that I thought I'd never reach. All that time in prison, I thought about it constantly though I didn't know if I'd ever even get out." He met her eyes. "I'm thrilled that it happened and I'm beyond overjoyed that you said yes – or that you asked and I said yes. I – I don't even care who asked who first!" he declared, with a wave of his hands. "So yes, yes Jemma I'm ready to watch it."

He saw the tears well up in her eyes and kissed the sides of her face. One of her tears spilled out, and he tasted a hint of the saltiness against his lips.

"But first," he continued. "I have something for you."

He reached into his pocket, knowing that the awkward bulge had to have been another giveaway as to his plan. Fitz pressed the ring-sized box into Jemma's hands. A new set of tears began to pool in her eyes as she opened the box.

"You already have a ring," he explained. "But I saw that you liked this necklace at the antique shop. And I liked the symbolism – the two interlocking circles. The necklace needed a good polishing –"

"And you polished it!" Jemma observed, a smile spreading across her face. "How did you manage to purchase this and get it polished, Fitz, when you and I spent every minute together here?"

"Simple," he shrugged. "One morning while you were showering, I dashed downstairs and asked our innkeeper for a huge favor. From all of his nonstop chatter, I knew he loved romance – and jewelry, for that matter. He agreed to go to the store, purchase the necklace, and have it polished. I must give Marcas credit; he executed his mission perfectly. I kept worrying he would come back with the wrong necklace, but he found the right one."

"You must have explained his mission quite well – you know I don't take long showers, so you didn't have much time. I am truly in awe!" She looked at the necklace. "Did you want to do the honors or shall I?" She noticed that the old clasp was tiny, as was often the case with vintage necklaces. It might be difficult for his hands.

"Probably be easier if you do it," he acknowledged. "Rings are much easier than necklaces to place on someone else!"

They both smiled at the truth of his words. Fitz lifted her hair up, as Jemma donned the necklace. She then looked into his eyes. The blue color, the depth behind them - she felt like she could drown in them, and she was almost overwhelmed.

"And since you are in awe," he began, his voice catching a bit, "may I say the words?"

"Please do so," Jemma managed. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Her mind veered between its usual scientific curiosity and the passion she felt for Fitz. Both sensations were thrilling. She didn't know exactly what words he would say. And simultaneously, she loved him so much that she knew that whatever he did say would be sublime.

"Jemma Simmons," he began, taking her hand. "I realized something. We're not cursed. The universe can't stop us - because we have crossed galaxies, we have traveled through time, we survived the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, and we have cheated death just so we can be together. A love like that - that is stronger than any curse, and you and I? We are unstoppable together. I don't want to live another day without you. So Jemma Simmons, will you marry me?"

"Yes! Absolutely, yes." She took a breath and then added, "You've always been a romantic, Fitz, and I know it hurts you so much that you missed the wedding. I cannot tell you how happy and honored I will be to marry you again."

They reached for each other and remained in an embrace for many long moments.

"Okay," Fitz breathed, once they slowly pulled away from the hug. "I'm ready to watch the video." He still employed the mental tactic of viewing the missed 16 days as if he'd had memory loss. It provided a more logical way for his brain to conceptualize and process the situation.

Jemma's hands trembled a bit as she picked up the phone again and began to unlock it. "You know it will be hard," she warned. "Coulson officiated."

"I know. I'm not embarrassed to cry in front of you. Do – uh, do you have any tissues in your purse?"

Jemma forced a smile and reached inside the purse. "You didn't really have to ask, did you?"

"Not really. I knew you would have figured out that I was going to propose today, and that you'd be prepared with tissues." He paused. "I didn't know that you were going to have the wedding video cued up on your phone though." He tilted his head. "I should have anticipated that."

Jemma shook her head. "I should have anticipated the necklace! I can't believe I didn't."

"I guess we still can surprise each other. That's good, I suppose," Fitz smiled nervously.

All thoughts of actually having the picnic and eating the food they brought were forgotten. The couple sat together and watched the video, mourning Coulson but being glad for the rest of the family that they would be rejoining.

 **THE END**

 _As always, thank you for any comments and feedback._


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